I'm talked out. It's as if someone died suddenly, and I'm the one who has to tell everybody what happened. Over and over and over again. I'm trying so hard. In as much as I could, I've welcomed the anger, grief, bitterness, and pain, and found they're all things I've felt before. They pass. And I've welcomed gratitude, inasmuch as I can. I pulled on the big girl panties, and tried to ask the big girl questions, and maybe the biggest question of all: God, what do you want me to do? And I waited, listening for his answers. They seem to be, "take care of your health; take care of your children; trust Me." But really, it's hard to tell if that's God, or me.
I'm sick. Oh, Lord, I've said that so much lately that I rolled my eyes even to type it. When I couldn't drag myself out of bed today, despite a valiant effort, "take care of myself" was an easy choice. It was no choice. My body imposed a sabbath on me, and it was kinder than some. Cancer is the sabbath for a dear friend of mine. A heart attack for another. Last week suicide was my cousin's rest, or he thought it was. God have mercy on him. Poor Randy. I asked myself, "What is important?" This is vital! And I kept seeing my children, especially Nia Grace. I had to withdraw her from school last week because she was bullied and misunderstood so badly. She needs a mother so much right now, and God have mercy on me for asking if being a mother is more important than working a minimum wage job. I'm grateful for my job. Jobs are hard to get, and that one was, too. Here's irony, lovies. I take care of children. Do I sacrifice my own to do so? While I'm giving myself to the kids at the daycare center, four blocks away my daughter is at home, baffled, needing to homeschool, depressed, and sleeping her days away.
Who do I trust? Who is my provider? What is foolish? What is wise? What would love do in my circumstances?
The truth is, I can't hear God or my own answers to any of these questions unless I'm postured to hear. What do I need to even pray effectively? Lovies, Nia isn't the only one who needs a mother right now; I need one, too. I need God to be my Mother. At the moment, I'm overwhelmed by almost everything.
Psalm 131 is the scripture presently speaking to my heart:
"O Lord, my heart is not lifted up;
my eyes are not raised too high;
I do not occupy myself with things
too great and too marvelous for me.
But I have calmed and quieted my soul,
like a weaned child with its mother;
like a weaned child is my soul within me."
In a way, I wish I were a suckling child, but I have to be a big girl now, but not too big! I'm still small enough to sit there with Mama, calm (finally), quiet, and trying my best to hear. Speak to me, Mama. Please.
I love you all. Thanks for being here.